


Mad About the Boy

by RadiationGroove



Series: Wander [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Blatant smut, F/M, Fluff, Gun porn, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiationGroove/pseuds/RadiationGroove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's happier roaming the Mojave Wastes. but she comes back. Eventually, she always comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Have You Been All My Life

Halfway to Goodsprings from the Strip, she heard about his triumphant return on her Pip-Boy radio and immediately changed her route for North.

When he saw her standing in the lobby of the Tops several days later, covered in dust and heat (and blood, was it?), Benny froze mid-step. The Courier, there, like it was the most normal thing in the word, like she belonged there, chatting up Swank and laughing. God, when was the last time he saw her laugh? He stared; unaware he was doing so until a patron broke of his line of vision. The way he saw it, Benny had two options: one, run back up to his suite with his tail between his legs, and two, approach her and see what went down.

Option two it was. He wasn’t a fink.

“Swank.” A call to attention. Both the Chairman and the courier turned their attention to the voice. Swank seemed to take the hint, turning away from the pair of them. Privacy and all that. 

Courier Six didn’t seem startled, so to speak, but more relieved. Part of her was sure that his return was purely rumor, but he was here. He’d escaped the Fort alive. She looked him over top to bottom, finally focusing again on his face. Nothing had changed there. Still handsome as hell. Benny scratched the back of his neck, shot her a lopsided smile, and offered the courier his arm. She took it, graciously, and the pair of them meandered towards the elevator to floor thirteen. If she was earning stares in her leather and dust, she didn’t acknowledge them; she was too focused on Benny. He seemed different than he remembered; coming close to death does that to a person. The elevator dinged open and he ushered her inside. 

It was absolute silence for thirteen floors, her arm draped through his, fingers resting light on his wrist. He escorted her from elevator to his door, where Courier Six took off her pack. Inside his suite, Benny poured a pair of drinks (Scotch on the rocks). He extended one to the courier, who settled herself on a tattered couch. 

“So…are you proud?” Her voice was soft, and strange to his ear.

His brow furrowed. “Proud of what, pussycat? You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

Six giggled, sipping at her drink. “At the Fort, before our little magic trick, you said ‘Make Vegas a town I’d be proud of, baby. Let it swing.’” Her eyes twinkled at the memory. That escape...“So, after everything, what I wanna know is if you’re proud of New Vegas.”

An independent New Vegas. She’d followed the plans Benny had left with Yes Man to the letter. And then some. Like a prodigy. 

“ ‘Course I am, doll. You saw on your way in here. The Strip is thrivin’. Business has never been better, for any of us. I am proud.” He sat beside her, the ice clinking in his glass, “I’m proud of you.”

Benny wasn’t sure if she was blushing at his compliment or if the Mojave had given her sunburn, but she was red and Six smiled into her glass.

“Where’d you go?” The courier had Benny’s full and undivided attention. He was eager to hear; word traveled what happened at the Hoover Dam, how she’d been ruthless in defense of New Vegas, how she’d had Yes Man toss General Lee Oliver off the Dam, how she’d persuaded Lanius to surrender. That word had traveled; his Courier Six had herself a little reputation.

“It’s a blur, honestly. Came back to the Lucky 38 for a little while, got myself taken care of. Then I just…walked. I just kept going. South, mostly. Stopped in at Goodsprings, that felt like being home,” Courier Six smiled and sighed, “The folks there took care of me, I helped take care of them. It was nice. Where did I go after that? Oh, Freeside. I know, I know, sort of counterintuitive, but I stopped other places along the way. And Freeside needs some serious help. So I helped. City’s getting cleaner. People are getting cleaner. Might as well join the Followers of the Apocalypse the way we’re workin' on getting the chems off the streets-” She paused, caught herself mid-sentence, “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Benny hadn’t moved. For a moment, it didn’t register that she’d asked a question, but he blinked and shook his head in response. “No, no. Not at all, I asked. I’m sorry to stare, baby, but God, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Thought about you a lot while I was on the lam, and not just that eighteen karat night before that." There was something about his eyes; he admired her, he meant every word. 

"Not for nothin', but you took your sweet time co-"

He kissed her, chin cupped in one hand. While unexpected, it was anything but unwanted. Courier Six sighed against his mouth, fingers tracing the lapel of his checkered jacket. When he pulled away, Six finished her sentence, searching his dark eyes for...something. 

"Comin' back." 

The courier took his drink and set both glasses on the table. They wouldn't need them anymore; her head was swimming just from being close to him, and his eyes were glassy, the pupils blown out. She kissed him like she had that night, eager and carefree, her fingers clutching at his jacket. He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer, into his lap. Six giggled around his mouth, straddling his legs and tangling her fingers in his hair. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her cheek and behind her ear, then the scar where a bullet had ricocheted off her skull, "this wasn't personal, pussycat."

"I know, I know, shut up. Bed, please," Six kissed him again, hungry, and that was all the forgiveness he needed. 

Benny stood, holding her about the waist. She compensated by wrapping her legs around him, fumbling with the door to his bedroom when her back hit something solid. He shifted his hands to her ass and once the door was open he sat on the edge of the bed. Now seated, she pulled off her boots, tossing them off the side of the bed. He bit and sucked at her lower lip and she ground her hips forward into his. Next came whispered demands of the removal of clothing, the jingle of buckles from her armor and the soft fwump of his jacket and pants and they hit the ground. The courier noted that he ran hot under her fingertips as she groped him through his boxers. He was hard, and groaned into her neck. 

“Baby, you ain’t playing fair,” Benny huffed, biting her collarbone and fumbling with her bra until her breasts were free. He buried his face in her chest, kissing and nipping at the skin. Six tugged at his hair, scratched his shoulders; she was unable to keep her hands off of him. There was no way to get enough contact, no way to get a hold of quite enough skin. 

He rolled the pair of them over, pinning the courier on her back, taking both of her wrists in one of his hands and pinning them above her head. Six could only squeal and laugh; when was the last time she’d just enjoyed herself like this? Probably the last time they had sex. Benny’s breath was hot on her neck while kissed her, pressing his hips against hers, rolling that hardness against her.

“The fuck are you waiting for, Benny?” She cooed, hooking her legs around his hips. Six pressed back up against him, dragging her lips along the side of his jaw. “How much longer do you plan on waiting?”

Not too much, apparently. The months they’d spent apart had been enough.

There was little struggle in the removal of their undergarments, those final articles of clothing that was separating them. He kissed her, tenderly, settled himself between her legs, and laced their fingers together when he pressed forward inside her. Six gasped, eyes sliding shut. Benny grunted softly; she felt glorious wrapped around him. He was very still for a moment while he savored the sensation. The initial thrusts inside her were tentative, as if this were the first time they’d been together. They started slowly, steadily, the pair of them rocking, the adjustment of legs and arms while the pair of them found what felt familiar. For all the speed and heat that had preceded the act, time seemed to slow and cool down. Six squeezed Benny’s hands with each thrust, resting her forehead against his. They shared breaths, kisses, the softest words. Benny couldn’t help but to watch her, the build-up of moans, the way her face contorted when he hit her just right. Her fingers grasped at him, feeling the muscles of his back shift under her hands. 

When she came, it was with a groan, deep from her belly, her hands clutching at his arms like they were the only thing keeping her present in the moment. He wasn’t far behind her, burying his hands in her hair and his face in her neck. The rocking slowed until the pair of them stilled outside of the heaviness of their breathing. Six kissed his face over and over, his brow, nose, cheek, ear, lips, leaving no part of him untouched. Benny nuzzled his face against hers, cupping her cheeks with both hands. He rolled off of her, rather reluctantly, and pulled her close to him. She was more than happy to curl against him, head on his shoulder. She drew her nails lightly over his chest, tracing an errant scar here, or the curve of muscle there.

“You don’t have plans to sneak off in the middle of the night again, do you?” The courier murmured, inhaling the scent of him, of them. 

“Nah, not tonight, pussycat,” Benny smiled, kissing the top of her head. He hummed into her hair, carding his fingers through the locks. 

They were content to fall asleep in each other’s arms, legs tangled in a warm knot. And when day rolled around, when light came filtered through the windows, when Six’s eyes fluttered awake, Benny was still there. Snoring, face half-obscured in his pillow, Benny was still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be a series of loosely related chapters with no discernible beginning or end. However, I've written an end and what used to be chapter 3 is now the beginning.


	2. Where Have You Been All My Life

On the list of things Benny had expected to see today, this wasn’t one of them. 

Courier Six, in  _his_ suite at the Tops, lounging on  _his_ bed, naked save for  _his_  checkered jacket.

Not a bad thing by any means, just very unexpected. And he was suddenly very hard.

“You lost, kitten?” Benny stuffed his hands into his pockets, a lopsided grin crawling across his face. The very definition of ‘wolfish,’ she thought. An eager, ravenous wolf. It was in the way his eyes trailed up her legs, followed her stomach and the curve of her half-hidden breasts. "Dunno if you knew, doll, but this here is a private suite."

“Do I look lost?” Courier Six propped herself up on her elbows. She shot him a pout and waste-worn fingers unbuttoned the jacket. The thing was ugly as sin, but damn effective. 

"You look...platinum, baby."

 _That_  was what she wanted. Everything about him right now was what Courier Six wanted: he was all charm and lust, pomp and  _Vegas_. He embodied all the things she loved most about the Strip. It was why she kept coming back over and over again. 

Benny approached with his trademark swagger, studying her through his lashes. Couple new scars, a little color to her face. She seemed exhausted but who wouldn't after a month and a half wandering the Mojave Wastes. He held out a hand for her and drew her up on her knees, closer to him. A finger traced her jaw, then along the scar on her forehead where he'd shot her. 

Water under the bridge and all that. 

"Missed you, kid." Reverent, almost thankful she was here. 

Benny kissed her, deep and open-mouthed, and grabbed great, heaping handfuls of her ass.  A shiver traveled down her spine; why had she waited so long to come back? The couriers' fingers worked to loosen the knot in his tie, and when it had come free she cast it to the floor. His shirt followed soon after, and the courier placed her hands against the definition of his stomach. Even after Vegas "made him soft," Benny still had the build of a Wasteland tribal: broad and solid. He’d asked if she was “built sturdy” the very first time they’d fucked, and for good reason. His belt and the fly to his pants provided little resistance, and Benny removed his shoes himself.  Kisses traced down her jaw and neck, Benny sucking at the skin while he pulled his jacket off her shoulders. There was plenty more to explore, so his jacket landed…somewhere else.

“Hel-lo! Missed you two the most.” The most powerful man on the Strip grinned like a fool when he reached her breasts. With total fondness, he kissed the swells at the top, nibbled at her nipples, and the sweet spot between them. Another handful of her ass before Benny’s fingers grazed her inner thigh. What he found there made him very glad his pants were nowhere to be found.  An exploratory finger probed between her legs, the touch teasing. A second finger joined the first and Benny eased them inside his courier’s body. He wasted no time in treating her to the slow pumping that made her squirm. She was so wet, and so hot, and he so wanted her. He wanted to feel that warm and welcome.

“And what’s all this about? So soon, baby?” He pulled his fingers out, enjoying the slickness that coated them.

“I missed you too.” She took his wrist in hand and brought his fingers to her mouth, holding his gaze while she sucked them clean. That seemed to do the trick.

Benny pounced, his bed squeaking once Six was knocked onto her back. There were more hungry kisses punctuated by laughter and sweet-nothings while he situated himself between her spread legs. The courier bit at his lower lip, reaching between them to stroke every inch of his cock. The stare was intense, and the courier never noticed how beautifully deep and brown Benny’s eyes were until they were nose to nose. There was unspoken confirmation that yes, she did indeed want him, and he pressed himself inside her.

“You sonofa-…holy fu-…goddamn.” Her toes curled.

What were words? What even was she trying to say? Didn’t matter. 

He kissed her neck, lacing his fingers with hers while he set their rhythm. Every thrust made the bed groan, made her groan, made him groan. Despite this overdue reunion, they took their time. He moved slow and deliberately, and Six gave him total and complete access to her body. This was every time, every visit. He felt familiar inside her, around her. It felt familiar to be sharing breath, to be sharing sweat, for her to draw her nails down his back and arms.  Before, that month and a half had felt like eons.

Now, neither of them could remember what it was like to be apart.

“I could kill you right now, doll,” Benny murmured into the courier’s ear, “and no one would be any the wiser.” Then it was his fingers around her neck, more skin on skin, sweat on sweat. He just felt so  _damn good._

 _Click,_  and he stilled.

Maria pressed against her temple, cold and hard. For a moment, only the briefest of moments, the courier’s eyes registered with fear. The truth was thus: she could easily die in this moment, with Benny’s cock inside her and that self-satisfied smirk lazy across his lips. As quickly as it came, the terror was gone. The gears were turning; two could play at this game, easily. Courier Six craned her neck, dragging her tongue along the grip and Benny’s fingers, lightly over the trigger (luckily Maria always required a firm hand), and down the barrel of the gun. Her eyes held his the entire trip, until she found it necessary to close them and fix her mouth around the barrel. She took the metal down her throat; she could almost taste the gunpowder.

“Baby, you  _are_  a crazy broad.”

The courier hummed, bobbing her head along the gun once or twice (or was it three or four times?) before withdrawing. A string of saliva connected the woman’s mouth to his gun; Benny shuddered at the sight. This had to be a sin. Our Lady of Guadalupe was painted on the grip and here was this girl with this gun in her mouth like it was the best cock she’d ever seen. The danger was intoxicating. The feeling of holding her life in his hand? Again? Even more so.

“You won’t. Because that means you don’t get to finish fucking me,” she slipped her legs around his hips with a purr, “and because you’d have a helluva time getting blood out of these sheets.” Courier Six ground her hips upwards in a slow, tight, tiny circle, aching and desperate and throbbing for him to move inside her again. For him to fuck her silly. "Besides, the odds aren't exactly even right now, are they?" 

She rolled Benny flat on his back, pinning his right hand to the bed. She slipped the weapon from her lovers' hand and reveled in the weight. Maria was a beautiful gun, and she admired it as she pressed it to Benny’s forehead. Now that his hands weren’t busy, one settled at her hip, the other crept between her legs to brush and play ever so lightly at her clit. Courier Six inhaled sharply and set about rolling her hips into Benny. He couldn’t keep his hand from wandering; there was an undeniable urge to grope her breast, to play with her nipples, to run his fingers along her lips.  He just wanted to touch her; she looked so perfect perched on his cock, never mind his own gun pointed at his head.

He wanted a show? She’d give him one.

Maria landed on the nightstand so Six could brace her hands on Benny’s legs behind her. She lifted herself completely and allowed her body weight to bring her back down. He was fixated on the warmth between her legs, on watching himself being swallowed up over and over again. She had total control over the angle, searching, and finding, that sweet spot that curled her toes. Accompanied by Benny’s thumb rolling her clit in small circles, she wasn’t far at all from release.

“You feel so fucking good,” her voice was a strangled whimper and Benny flipped them back over, more determined than ever.

Benny braced himself on his forearms, dropping his head to kiss and bite at the junction of neck and shoulder. He was brilliant at following directions, complying with her strangled gasps of “harder,” “faster,” “don’t fucking stop.” He wouldn’t stop, not when they were both so close, when all he wanted was to make this woman come and call his name so loud that the casino floor could hear her. The sweat poured off both of them, a combination of the Nevada heat and pure lust. Her fingers grasped for purchase, curling themselves into strands of dark hair. She wanted to come and to be close to him more than anything in existence in that moment. 

Her entire body clenched when she came, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her orgasm ripped through her body causing tremor after tremor. Courier Six’s feet locked beneath Benny’s ass, holding him to the hilt inside her, begging him to ride it out. There were no distinguishable words, just whimpers of his name and something resembling “oh, fuck” between deep gasps. Benny wasn’t far behind. He came inside her, all teeth, growling her name against her skin. Her  _real_  name, not an alias, not some job description. Like it was his personal fucking prayer. As far as he was concerned, with the way she felt wrapped around him, it was. She was a goddamned angel. 

Everything was stillness. Quiet. 

The pair of them needed to catch their breath, needed to cool down.  Courier Six was more than content to lay there forever as long as it meant he was inside her. Benny had other plans. He peppered her face with soft kisses, withdrew from her body (she felt so empty now,) and found a comfortable place to rest against her breasts. His arms snaked around her waist, as if it were possible she could float away. 

"Hold me, will ya?" Benny’s question was soft. The courier could hear the sleep in his voice, and she was more than happy to drape her arms about his shoulders with a sleepy smile. "I'll never get tired of that, pussycat."

“I’d have no reason to come back if you did.” She hummed, her nails tracing along the sun-freckles on his shoulders, like reading music. “Try not to snore tonight.”

“The Ben-man does  _not_ snore.”

“The Ben-man could take paint off the ceiling.”

The radio on the other side of the room crooned. The courier buried her face into his hair, singing in the faintest voice alongside the radio. 

 

 _On the silver screen_  
_He melts my foolish heart in every single sceen_  
_And though I'm quite aware that here and there_  
_Are traces of the cad about the boy._

 

Benny did indeed snore in the soundest sleep he'd had since she was last at the Tops. She'd stay another day or two, the courier decided with a yawn, and try not to spend too long away. The wasteland gets lonely when a certain someone is on your mind. 

 

 _Will it ever cloy_  
_This odd diversity of misery and joy_  
_I'm feeling quite insane and young again_  
_And all because I'm mad about the boy..._


	3. Love Me  As Though There Were No Tomorrow

What time was it? Her Pip-Boy said three-thirty a.m. when she took the elevator up, but Six stood outside the suite for what felt like hours. Part of her wanted to go back downstairs and rent a room of her own until morning. But no…she wanted Benny.

Benny was asleep, snoring on his side. A half-finished glass of something sat on the nightstand, whiskey maybe? He must have had a hard time falling asleep. Six leaned in the doorway of his bedroom, just watching. She liked him best asleep and just before or after; it was the most genuine he ever was. There was something childlike about the way he curled into his pillow, about the way his hair messed. She dropped her pack in the doorway, kicked off her boots, and joined him in his bed as gently as possible. The bedsprings creaked under her weight, and she slipped an arm around his waist to draw herself close and press against him. Out of pure and utter exhaustion, Courier Six fell asleep, her face resting on his shoulder.

Courier Six woke to fingers in her hair and lips against her forehead, to sunlight pouring through the windows. She yawned and if she could snuggle closer to the warmth of his body, she would have.

“G’mornin’.”

“Pussycat. When’d you get here?” He was still half-asleep, his voice raspy and soft.

“Late? Early? Didn’t want to wake you. Nnh, don’t get too close, I haven’t showered yet.”

Benny didn’t seem to care as he took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, dirt and all. She hummed, and when they pulled apart, buried her face in his neck. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d just laid in his bed. Sure, the sex was great and it occupied a great deal of their time, but Six adored just being around him day to day.

“So, what do you have to do today?”

Benny sighed and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Tommy’s got the Aces closed, something about rehearsing new material all day, a new act, I don’t know. Wants me to sit in. Waste of my time if you ask me. Tommy thinks I don’t have anything better to do.”

“He’s right. You don’t. You’re the boss, boss,” Six shrugged, and Benny was quick to follow when she climbed out of bed.

For Six, this was a longer visit to the Strip than usual, and she’d exchanged her armor and weapons for pre-war dresses. It felt strange to be so…comfortable, or clean. Her shower (their shower, Benny had taken it upon himself to join and assist) had been a long-awaited luxury.

Benny _was_ the boss, but the Aces Theater was Tommy Torini’s playground. He carried creative control over the acts, the schedule, and he and his Rad Pack were part of the reason people flocked to the Tops _for_ the Aces. To shut the theater down had to be bad for business, but Benny let Tommy do what he wanted to because he brought in enough money the other six days of the week. Six adored Tommy; he was charming and down-to-Earth, and very much a showman.  The pair of them got along famously, and if Courier Six was at the Tops and she _wasn’t_ with Benny, she was with Tommy.

A new singer rehearsed today, and Benny did little to hide his displeasure, his almost blatant irritation with the idea that he had to take time out of his day for this shit. The courier elbowed him in the side, brow furrowed, and gave him a reproachful look. The singer was pretty, young, and nervous. Six felt bad for the girl. Benny had a reputation for being a hardass. What would everyone think if they knew he was a kitten for her? Tommy nodded at the pianist, who began to play.

Something in the couriers’ eyes was dreamy, and Benny found himself watching her more than the new act. She cradled her chin in her hand, her gaze half-lidded while she listened. They kept the Aces dimly lit, candles on the table, the whole nine; it sparked something terribly romantic in Benny. The singer started a classic:

_Love me as though there were no tomorrow_

_Take me out of this world tonight_

 “Stand up.”

“Hm…why?”

“Dance with me.”

 

If he hadn’t looked so serious, Six might have snorted. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking. Since when did you dance?”

_Take me; make me forget my sorrow_

_So when I wake tomorrow, I’ll know our love was right…_

 

Benny scoffed, rather indignant. Determined now, he stood, straightened his jacket and tie, and held out a hand for her. “Get over here, toots.”

 

His cigarette safely balanced on the ashtray, Courier Six took his hand in hers when he pulled her close. Six decided that she was very glad that the Aces was closed; embarrassment in the form of a blush crawled up her face from her chest. One hand wrapped around the small of her back, the other laced their fingers together. Courier Six placed her hand on the back of his shoulder. He rested his cheek against hers while they danced, swaying in place.

 

_Kiss me as though it were now or never_

_Teach me all that a heart should know_

Courier Six took her cues from the lyrics directly, turning to catch his lips in a kiss. If the lovers weren’t so deliriously involved with one another, they may have noticed Tommy and the Rad Pack shooting knowing looks across the room. If they hadn’t figured out that Benny was wrapped around the Courier’s fingers, they knew now.

_Love me as though there were no tomorrow_

_Oh my darling, love me; don’t ever let me go…_

 

Later that evening, after they’d finished dancing and retreated to his room to roll around in his bed like a pair of starry-eyed newlyweds (more “lovemaking” than “fucking”), there was quiet. Benny sat against his pillows and lit a cigarette, Six lay on her stomach with the sheets draped halfway down her ass.

“Gimme one?”

He extended one of his smokes and lit it for her, a brow raised skeptically. “Since when were you a smoker?”

“Bummin’ your cigarettes after sex does _not_ make me a smoker,” Six spoke around the filter, took a drag, and pulled the ashtray onto the bed between them. “Makes me a mooch.”

Benny smirked, extending a finger to trace her spine from base to neck.  She was beautiful, he mused, especially now. When she was unguarded, relaxed, comfortable, coming down from an orgasmic high, she was perfect.

“Benny?”

Her voice, tired and soft, jerked him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, kitten?”

“The new girl? I like her,” Six took a drag of her cigarette and rested her head on folded arms, “Make sure the boys don’t mess with her?”

Benny smiled and reached out to brush an errant lock of hair from her face.

“You got it, baby.”


	4. Heartache by the Number

Courier Six pressed chips into Cass’ and Boone’s palms with a smile. “These are on me. Have fun, okay?”

Her friends were in town. Her friends. Here. On the Strip. It had been too long since she’d seen them, since they’d all been in the same place. Boone was a caravan guard, a do-good gun for hire, a sort of strong silent superhero. Cass…who knew what trouble Whiskey Rose was getting herself into without her on NCR time. But they were here; Six wandered into the presidential suite at the Lucky 38 to see them sharing a drink on a couch and that was that. She invited them to the Tops the following night, to the place that was slowly feeling more and more like home. When they actually showed, Cass strolling in like Hell on two legs and Boone ever on guard, the courier easily broke away from Benny’s side to greet them with enthusiastic hugs.

Benny watched. The three of them were comfortable with each other, with sharing space. They had history; that much was clear. He wouldn’t force an introduction. After all, these were her friends, and he was on the job. The courier was steps ahead, playing the gracious hostess. Benny smiled around his cigarette when the approached arm in arm with the brunette woman.

“Benny, this is Rose of Sharon Cassidy, Cass, and this is Craig Boone. Cass, Boone…this is Benny.”

Formal introductions were a good first step. Neither of her companions seemed particularly pleased to meet Benny at first; he supposed the Courier had little good to say of him when she met them, after Goodsprings and two gunshots. Cass gave Benny a crooked smile and a nod. Boone just stood at Six’s shoulder like her personal bodyguard. Then she sent them off with chips, absolutely beaming the entire time. Cass kissed her cheek and headed off in search of whiskey and a table. Boone followed behind, rolling his shoulders a little. Benny nudged the courier’s shoulder before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Go. I can manage runnin’ the floor without you, baby.” Benny winked and gave her rear a playful swat. She kissed him on the cheek, leaving her lipstick behind before following after Boone, her skirts rustling about her hips.

Benny did the charming thing for a while, chatting up guests and barking orders at Chairmen, before wandering through the casino. It wasn’t hard to find Six and Boone; the ex-NCR sniper and his beret stuck out like a sore thumb. He was seated at a blackjack table. Six stood behind him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder, a drink in her other hand. She was laughing, whispering in his ear, strategy if he had to guess. Benny paused mid-step; a pang of anxiety coursed through his body. They were too close for his comfort, too friendly, just too much. He must have won the hand; she cheered and clapped and took a sip from her glass. Jealousy welled in his stomach. 

Boone and Six joined Cass at the bar upstairs at the Aces some time later, and Benny took the opportunity to stake his claim on the courier. He bought both women several drinks (much to Cass' amusement) and placed affectionate kisses on his girls’ neck. 

"Cass, you're drunk," Six laughed, leaning against Benny, one of his hands creeping up her dress. Not to say _she_ wasn't, but Cass was a career alcoholic. 

"And you're beautiful, so there," red-faced Whiskey Rose slurred, and took Six by the elbow. "Dance with me."

So they did, Cass looping her arms around the couriers waist, Six slipping her hands about the older woman's shoulders. They swayed together for a little while, clumsily spinning and dipping the other. They were having fun, Six giggling, Cass attempting to kiss the courier and missing. Benny sat with the sniper, stoic and tense, feeding his own machismo and ego by puffing out his chest. Boone either ignored Benny's antics or didn't notice, as he just nursed a beer and watched the women dance. 

Cass and Boone were among the last to leave once the Tops wound down. Boone supported a very inebriated Cass as they left for the Lucky 38. Six hugged them both like it were the last time she'd see them, kissing their cheeks affectionately. "G'night you two. Be good. Stay outta trouble, Cass. Love you guys. Don't destroy the suite." She yawned, waving them off. Benny rested a hand on the small of her back and lead her to the quiet of floor thirteen. 

Upstairs, something seemed to snap in him. 

"I don't like that Boone guy. Don't trust him." Behind the safety of his suite door Benny grumbled, shucking off his jacket and draping it over a chair. Six went right into the bedroom to dress down. “Don’t like you and him…”

“What’re you getting at, Benny?” Six watched him through the mirror, removing bobby pins from her hair and pre-War earrings from her ears. 

Benny paced the room, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “I’m just saying…you n' Boone…”

“Benny, spit it out.”

“Are you fucking him?”

Courier Six blinked into the mirror before swiveling to face him. “ _What_?”

“I didn’t stutter. You go off for weeks at a time, I saw you two at the tables. Are you fucking him?” Benny stared her down, fists clenched at his side. He’d never had reason to be jealous before; his significant relationships were few and far between. “People aren’t that close just as friends.”

“No,” she shook her head, “no, Benny. I’m not fucking him.” Her jaw tightened. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

“You’re _my_ girl-”

“Am I? That implies that you trust me.” Six snapped, eyes all fire. "Which, clearly, you don't." 

Benny seethed for a moment longer, taking deep, heavy drags off his smoke. 

"There have been only three people since Goodsprings, and none of them overlap. You're such a hypocrite, you know that? There are still rumors that you're holed up here with girls from Gomorrah when I'm gone, and I don't say anything about that. These rumors still go around because you don't stop them, or they're true." Six turned away from him and back to the mirror, her jaw tight and face red. She didn't believe the whispers that he didn't leave his suite for days on end because he had a girl up there; it was speculation at best. "But I trust you. So I don't believe it. You need to figure out if you trust me or not."

Benny settled on the edge of his bed and loosened his tie. He wouldn’t admit it, not aloud, but this humbled him. A little. His reputation was important to him, after all. "Who? You said three. I'm assuming that includes me. Who're the other two?"

Courier Six chewed at her lower lip, watching him in the glass. "There was one night with Boone, before the Dam. He came, I didn't, and it was bad. But he's my friend; he's saved my ass more times than I can count. He taught me how to shoot properly. I can forgive awful sex when he's in a bad place. He's been through some serious shit." 

Benny snorted, snuffing the butt of his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. 

"Picture this," she stood and sat beside him, both of their rages beginning to quell, "I'm pregnant, sold into Legion slavery. You have one bullet, several hundred Legionaries between us. What do you do? Whose head do you put that bullet in?" When Benny's face fell in mild horror Six nodded. "He needed me."

After a long quiet moment, "who else?"

"After the Dam, before you came back, I just needed out. Took a job on a caravan headed to New Canaan. We were ambushed, the rest of my coworkers killed. The tribes of Zion valley took care of me, the Dead Horses and the Sorrows, and in exchange I helped them drive Caesars' White Legs out. That’s where I met Joshua Graham."

Benny raised a skeptical eyebrow; that wasn't a name you heard too often on this side of the Colorado. "Joshua Graham?"

"The Malpais Legate, now the Burned Man.Yes." Six smiled, the names rolling off her tongue with familiarity and ease. "It was more than a fling. We were so enamored with each other. So invested. Shattered my heart when I had to leave." 

The Chairman seated beside her picked at something all too interesting on his hand. He didn't know if he wanted to hear about this..."Why'd you come back, then? Why’d you leave him?"

"Staying put a strain on his faith, on my need for freedom," the courier was very still, eyes distant, "and on his people. They took me in with open arms and as grateful as I was it was damaging their way of life. So I left him in Zion valley, came back to the Mojave, and shortly after I heard you had come back to the Tops. You know the rest."

"You loved him," Benny murmured, reaching out to take her hand in his. It wasn't a question; it was plain for anyone to see. 

She smiled and shrugged, lacing her fingers through his. "I suppose I did. But I can't compare the two of you. It's just not possible." A beat. "You're both intensity, but your approaches are drastically different. Joshua could make me shiver and touch my soul just by opening his mouth, from clear across the room. Can't tell you how many times I asked him to read to me from his Bible." When Benny looked rather offended (he thought he had quite a way with words), she laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. "You, Benny, don't have to open your mouth. You do it with just a look, or a touch. You are two very different men."

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t have girls from Gomorrah here.”

“I know. I’m not sleeping with Boone. Only you.”

“I know.”

“Good. You're a little drunk."

"So're you. I love you."

"No you don't."

"Yeah, well...you don't either, pussycat."


	5. Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

Whispered words and wandering hands on the casino floor changed the course of their evening and had them progressing to privacy. Benny had said something, breath hot against her ear, about wanting to bend her over a blackjack table and that was it. They walked, calmly, arm in arm, to Benny's suite, but the slam of the doors behind them indicated anything but leisure. Six struggled with her armor, her hands shaking, so Benny shoved her onto a couch and tore desperately at fabric. Leather pants landed behind the bar, and her panties were...nowhere to be found. Benny's mouth couldn't find her clit fast enough, and Courier Six gasped. 

She was soaked and he was... hungry. He loved her raw like this; her mouth agape in blind pleasure, fingers flexing and clenching. While he licked and sucked, he slipped out of his jacket and tie. Benny slipped his arms under her legs, drawing her closer to his mouth and began to hum against her. Fuck if she knew what song, it just felt fucking amazing. 

Then came the first orgasm of the afternoon. 

Benny would keep track. 

He rode the waves out with bites and kisses on the inside of her thigh, waiting for her to catch her breath before he dove between her legs again. 

"You...sonofa...fucking tease, Benny."

There was a smart comment in there somewhere, but his mouth was otherwise occupied. 

Fingers, with no warning. Oh, good Lord his fingers. Two of his beautiful, long, lovely fingers pressed inside her and set about pumping,  _ hard _ . Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her hands finally found purchase tangled in the mess of his dark hair. She pulled and twisted and hell if he minded. As long as the moans kept coming from that deep place in her belly he didn't care. 

Here came orgasm number two. 

He gave her no break during the second, his tongue rolling her clit while his fingers fucked her, and it was all Six could do to find air to breathe. She was incapable of clear thought. Most of her sounds had devolved to unintelligible moans and gasps. 

"Fuck,  _ fuck _ , oh, BennyBennyBennyBenny," Six whined his name over and over, toes curling. "Benny please, please." She sounded on the verge of tears, looked it too with her brows knit in carnal concentration. 

The door opened.

"Boss, we gotta talk ab-...oh." If Swank could turn any pinker, he'd be a Brahmin. 

Benny paid his second no mind; he was far too focused on his mouth and fingers and the moans of pleasure he was drawing from his girl. Six, however, managed to raise her head and glare daggers at Swank. Her voice came in an unsteady growl through panted breaths. 

"Swank, if you value your life, you'll,  _ oh fuck me _ , close the fucking door behind you."

Swank complied without question, and made a mad dash for the elevator. His destination? The bar. There wasn't enough liquor in the world...

"Baby...Benny," her voice came in a soft choke, brushing hair from his face, " _ Shit _ ...Ben, don't stop. I'm gonna come."

Six had Benny's full and undivided attention, and looked up at her from his place on his knees. He was grinning into her cunt, that much she could tell, and those deep brown eyes were watching her, all lust and fire. His fingers curled, pressing hard and fast against that magic spot that made her forget all sense and reason. 

Orgasm number three. That would be enough for him. 

She convulsed and Benny pulled away, slowly rubbing her clit with his thumb in languid circles while she arched her back and bucked into his hand. Six keened and mewed, pressing the heel of one hand into her eye. Forget seeing stars; she was seeing entire galaxies. When he was sure Six was back to her senses, he sat back, looking rather smug and proud of himself. Benny's face was wet from nose to chin, his fingers dripping. 

It took a moment for her to be able to form words, coherent sentences. "I can't move," she chuckled. Indeed, her body felt like a heap of jelly. "What the fuck did you just  _ do _ ?"

Benny smirked, the cocky bastard, and hefted her into his arms, settling her into his lap. She felt sort of like a little girl, curled up and exhausted and spent. And  _ safe.  _

"What, did you black out for the last," he glanced at her Pip-Boy, "forty-five minutes? Don't tell me I have to do that all over again."

"I'm lucky I remember my name," Six hummed, nuzzling her face into the underside of his jaw. 

Quiet, then, nothing but his fingertips across her shoulder, hers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. The courier gave in, rather safe and sound in Benny’s lap. The Chairman sat for what felt like forever, a contented weight in his chest. Six was exhausted, that he was sure of, and the safety she must have felt to fall so easily to sleep was contagious.  

The next time she woke they were tangled in his bed, a mess of sheets and limbs.  She crept from the comfort of clean sheets, bare feet silent against the carpet. Sleep eluded her. This was too comfortable, too easy. She was starting to feel too much at home, too accepting of falling asleep in his lap to be scooped up into bed. 

This was not her nature. 

The Six-sized space beside him was cold, and light wormed it's way around the door frame. His courier was seated at his bar, dressed in her leathers and armor again, her gun in pieces before her. 

“Doll, what're you doin’?” His voice was hoarse, rough with sleep. 

She smiled, the action small. “I couldn’t sleep,” she hummed, sliding pieces of her favorite weapon back into place. “My brain was too busy.”

Benny stole a glance at the scars on her forehead; small now, and faded, but the bullet wounds were still there. He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for shooting her, twice. It wasn't personal, not in the slightest, and if presented with the decision now it would be a different story. 

“Well, come back to bed, will ya pussycat? ‘S cold.”

“Nah, I gotta go,” Six murmured, gathering her weaponry and sundry possessions. 

“Come again?”

“I'm leavin’. Gotta get movin’. But hey? At least I didn't sneak out.”

Benny just stared at her dumbly, slack jawed. The kiss she planted on his jaw hardly registered, nor did the  _ click _ of the suite door behind her as she left him. The Chairmen stood in his living room, naked as the day he was born, very confused. What just happened?


End file.
